


Timeless King

by AnOddSock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Art, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Digital Art, Gen, Loss of autonomy but Sam does it to himself so does it count, Magic, Mind Control, Partial Mind Control, Prompt Fill, Stanford Student Sam Winchester, Time Travel, because it's all you, don't think about it too hard you'll get a headache, if you consent to mind altering thoughts in the future do you also consent in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23963854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOddSock/pseuds/AnOddSock
Summary: Sam, no longer a boy, enjoys being the King of Hell. It has been his life's work, his destiny come to fruition. He doesn't want anything to change that, not even himself. He ventures back into the past to make sure he will always end up on the path that leads him to the throne.[Art and ficlet]
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40
Collections: King of Hell Sam Winchester's Birthday Promptfic* Extravaganza!





	Timeless King

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Antichristmas_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Antichristmas_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**   
>  **King of Hell Sam goes back in time to steer his past self onto his path.**
> 
> This prompt really jumped out at me, as an art idea first-- I could see the image so clearly. And then I wrote a ficlet to go with it. I hope the person who prompted it enjoys my creation, as well as anyone else who sees this  
> Thank you Threshie for beta reading this for me

It hadn’t been difficult to find his old self through the threads of time once the spell was set in motion. To slip alongside the currents and meld into reality behind his younger body was like breathing—easy, comfortable. It’s second nature to follow the pull and tug of his own soul around and watch as he grows, waiting for the right moment. He lives his childhood, his adolescence, all over again; finds a home in the air around his family, carves out a space beside the younger man he once was. It’s what he needs to do to make sure the pieces fall into place just so.

He’s thought about showing himself, announcing his presence and letting this young Sam understand, to know, to grow up with that knowledge. Thought about speaking the future into being with the magic of his words. But he knows what he was like when he was young. There would be a fight, and it would not be easily hidden. Holy water, exorcism chants, a blade held at his throat, threats made, mental defenses put up...

Not that his younger self could do him any harm, not with the power he has now, not with the means of his presence here. His physical body is safely locked in the future, hidden away behind wards and spells and runes. Guarded by his most faithful.

He’s only consciousness threaded through the firmament, dispersed into the ether and coalescing in the past. He is somewhat corporeal, freedom to move, to manipulate, but not a body, not _alive_. Nothing that could be hurt or stopped.

It would just be… tiresome. Tedious. Pointless.

His young, naive self would try, though. Try and fail and then be on the offensive, ever vigilant for the vision of evil he’s seen.

So, no, it’s better to stay hidden, better to secretly put things into motion, to set events into play and turn them to his own ends, than to have a confrontation.

He works in the shadows and around the edges, walks between the veils of the world. Watches, waits. Seizes moments as they appear to make his future secure.

A nudge in motives here, an errant thought there. He can already see the effects, the way the light catches differently in the irises of his own eyes. How they narrow at unjust obstacles in his path, how thoughts click into place and this young Sam starts to think about swiping the obstacles off the playing board, rather than contemplate losing at games he might not win.

It’s in the set of the shoulders, the tilt of the head, the twitch of the hands. He is making his younger self angry, defiant, strong. Playing with the thoughts as they arrive in his head, swirling the cocktail of emotions and recollections until they sit shaken and stirred in just the right mix.

He can make the world a little more pliable too, just to be sure. It doesn’t take much to sweep the kind people, the helpers, out of his own path and place those who inspire retribution in their place. He can incite fury through frustration, ignite a deep-seated burning need to make things right. 

It will start with helping the helpless. It will continue with craving the power that comes so easily. It will grow with turning that power on anyone who dares defy him. 

It will start here, in this library, beside these books he loves so much. With the will to fight, to argue, driven deep into his own bones—directed first at the target of human law. He can see it, the road ahead. A black, sleek car that will pull up and upend the quiet life. The monsters with teeth and claws and evil that will need destroying.

The trickle of injustice that settles deep in his core. Because it should be _better._ Should be _easier._ He should get to _control._

And he will. Oh, how he will. And it starts here.

This is easy. Like breathing. In and out. And the world turns, time ticks by, and his fate is set in motion. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, kudos and comments are always a welcome encouragment <3


End file.
